Life
by Telel
Summary: Life is a series of events in which the beginning and the end are never quite clear. [THREESHOT] Part 2 now up!
1. Chapter 1

**Life: Part 1. Clingy**

* * *

Tifa was not a clingy woman.

She couldn't be, could never be and would never be one.

She was a strong independent woman, raised in a town surrounded by the sharpest mountains, trained by a man of solidarity, and honed by the desolate slums of Midgar. She was a battler, warrior and a survivor.

Yet, she was still a loving woman.

So when she stumbled across the fact that today was her birthday and the sounds of breaking glass was the actually the sounds of her children clumsily but desperately trying to make her breakfast in bed, she was touched.

Tifa peered down from the top of the staircase to the kitchen below. She could make out the sounds of Denzel rummaging through the pantry while Marlene, being the shorter one of the two, pointed out the ingredients to him with a voice of authority.

"Denzel, you've got the Hollandaise sauce! We need tomato sauce, silly!"

"How am I supposed to know what is what?"

"Tomato sauce has a red label and hollandaise sauce has a yellow label."

"Hang on! Tomato sauce has a what?"

"A red label! No, not that one!"

Clearly, in the kitchen, Marlene was the boss.

Tifa heard Marlene huff in annoyance, and Denzel clink and clank through some more bottles of sauce and she grinned to herself. Tomorrow, she was going to have to re-label all her bottles.

Trying not to ruin the "surprise" she was about to receive, Tifa tip toed her way back into her bedroom and lay flat on her bed.

So it was her birthday.

How old was she now? 25?

Time sure flew by from… well, whenever. It was hard to think from when she really "began" because there really wasn't much to consider her beginning from.

If she were to begin from her childhood, plunking away on her piano and hanging out with the town's boys, then she would be too far away from her present. Too naive for the pains and horrors she was about to face. Zangan would be there but her father wouldn't. Her town would be there but it really wouldn't.

Her childhood was bliss but it was short and life was long.

So she could start from when she started to live in Midgar. Where she mixed her first drink, worked to earn a couple of cheap gils an hour to keep herself alive. But that was the most distrustful period of her life; hating ShinRa, despising old men who leered at her yet being unable to give up the job that paid and the electricity running through the bulb that kept her room bright at night. She couldn't give that up, no.

She would sleep with the lights on for another 4 years until she finally stopped having nightmares of fires and silver and blood. So she couldn't have started there.

Perhaps, her beginning was when she met Barret. Big muscular man who easily could have squashed her with his enormous gun-arm was instead carrying a small child. The child that was so innocent and clean from the dirty mess of her own disrupted childhood mesmerized her. Round brown eyes soft with naivety and… could it be love? Love in these slums?

So Tifa cared for her as if she were of her own and let Barret into her life. The first person whose arm she didn't twist when he gave her a smile. But even at this time, she couldn't have begun.

Barret was a dangerous man, wanted by ShinRa and opposed by those who supported the company. When with him she and his child were always in danger. When she wasn't with him, he was in danger. When she joined his organization, they were always in danger.

Constant threat of jail, torture or death wasn't where she wanted to start.

A loud clanging sound ripped through the house closely followed by urgent whispering. In an instant Tifa's body snapped upright, muscles tensed and ready to go. She had her hand wrapped around her doorknob when she heard the relieved sigh of Denzel echo quietly up the stairs.

"I can't believe she isn't awake yet."

Marlene's forlorn voice followed.

"Sorry Denzel."

They must have dropped a pan or something by accident. Releasing the tense breath she had been holding, Tifa dropped her hand from her door and returned to her bed.

It seemed pointless to stay "pretend-sleeping". No one could possibly sleep through that unless they were knocked unconscious. But the children seemed to be hurrying, hence the little accident, anxious to put a smile on her face with their deluxe breakfast in bed menu.

So Tifa lay down on her bed again, staring up at the white ceiling.

She was counting the cracks that ran through it when her phone rang a small tune.

Tifa crawled over to her desk and flipped the phone open.

It was a text from Yuffie congratulating her on her birthday with a photo of a cake. Tifa could vaguely make out a golden claw in the background which was probably Vincent's way of saying "Me too".

She smiled to herself and flicked through to the next message she had missed.

The next photo had Barret at an oil field- he had scribbled "happy birthday" in oil on the dirt floor with a big thumbs up.

The next was Cid and Shera half the message was about Tifa's birthday the second half was about their newborn son. Cid turned out to be the biggest pushover when it came to his son. Admittedly the boy was a sweet little creature, but Tifa was out for some revenge over the many lectures she endured about "being too damn lenient with the kids."

The following messages were from old and small friends, acquantainces and business partners with whom she traded with. Nanaki never got a phone so he would probably be sending her a card sometime soon and the messages ended there.

Tifa took time to reply to each one, thanking them for their lovely messages then snapped the phone shut.

When she let out a big sigh, she surprised herself and mentally slapped her cheeks. There was a message she was missing (her mind was kind enough to remind her- damn it!), but she wasn't going to lament on that. It wasn't news to her that today went by without any sort of… event.

An event- if it was so magical to be called one- that proved he existed and was still alive. He usually simply came and went, and as time passed, he rarely even stopped by. Business was booming and with that came lengthy trips across the world and many, many missed calls. So it came to a point where it was easier if he continued to travel, picking up deliveries from multiple sources in each major city or town.

Besides, she was strong and capable. She didn't need to know he was out there and remembering that today 25 years ago she was born. She wasn't going to ask him or nag him about forgetting it either (who would!) because she wasn't a clingy person.

Clingy.

Tifa shuddered at the word. She couldn't be, could never be and would never be a clingy person!

She turned over on her side, watching the hand that held the phone with light curiosity.

What a strange device, she thought.

It was supposed to keep people connected and keep them from feeling clingy. But the fact was, it was working the other way- disconnecting people because you could stay together a mile away from each other and if it didn't ring, you'd be devastated.

Surely this had to be a trap of some sort.

She flipped the phone open and shut a few times, watching the screen glow and dim with every movement.

On the 25th flip, she stopped.

The epiphany that this "pining over a message" was pointless and, frankly rather stupid dawned upon her mind.

There really was no point in waiting for that one message. She had already received so many messages of celebration that was it honestly worth feeling gloomy about the one she missed?

She received messages from friends and acquaintances, she had two beautiful children downstairs making her breakfast in bed, and she had even yet to walk out of her room!

One socially awkward delivery boy was not going to ruin her day!

Putting on the biggest smile she could make, Tifa jumped out of bed making sure she was stomping hard enough for the children to know she was finally awake, and headed downstairs.

By the time she was halfway down the staircase, the children's voices were still hushed by much more urgent now; scrambling here to there to perfect Tifa's birthday meal across the table.

When she did reach downstairs, Tifa felt her heart melt.

Standing behind the table loaded with funny shaped eggs (covered in a mix of hollandaise and tomato sauce), clumsily cut apples and a slightly burnt piece a toast were her two children covered in a mess she did not want to know.

"What is this?" She asked, not even trying to lower her voice which had raised an octave in excitement.

"Happy birthday Tifa!" The children replied in unison with grins large enough to match the one gracing Tifa's own face.

"Oh, I can't believe it! Thank you so much!" Tifa kneeled on the floor, arms open wide and the children dashed into her waiting arms.

They hugged each other tightly (Denzel squirmed in teen-self-consciousness), cheeks pushed against each other.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see all her different types of pans and knifes thrown in the kitchen sink and that the toaster had been left on.

But she would not tell them off for it because really, they had tried so hard and she could not believe that she had been caught up in her emotional "no messages" bubble that she had almost forgotten that she had these two treasures with her already.

So what if he didn't message and if he didn't show up?

Tifa had two children, cute as a button who loved her dearly. She had friends she called family and a house to live in. Her bar was a success, and compared to the days before where she thought she could start, this was a wonderful point to consider her life to have "begun".

Tifa wasn't clingy to begin with anyway.

So perhaps, today would be when her life begins; from when she turned 25. She was off to a great start to which her 10 year old or 15 year old or 20 year old self would hardly believe.

She didn't need him.

She wouldn't need him.

As Denzel began growling in teen-embarrassment, Tifa let the children go and watched them excitedly pull out her chair and eagerly wait for her to sit on it.

Tifa obliged, quietly slipping her hand in her pocket and switching the phone off in a silent declaration.

She was not clingy.

* * *

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only when the red outlines of Cosmo Canyon's cliff faces melted into the darkness of the night that Fenrir slowed to a stop.

Tearing off the goggles from his face, Cloud tiredly stepped off his bike and trudged over to a large boulder and collapsed beside it. He was exhausted and dehydrated- a dangerous combination when one was travelling alone. But he did not even have the energy to lift himself and grab his bottle, let alone keep his eyes open. Forgoing food and building a suitable shelter, he did the only thing his fatigued body would let him. Closing his eyes and letting darkness take over, Cloud let out a deep sigh.

It had been a solid week of non-stop riding so far.

He had been buried under a massive pile of work lately; with the world secure and new industries booming, it seemed all of Gaia needed something delivered. He would literally take up a delivery job, complete it, and turn around to find another three waiting to be done.

He barely had time to eat, let alone sleep and it was thanks to his inhuman stamina and strength that he was able to make it this far. Any other normal, "non-experimented" human would have given up on this job weeks ago.

However Cloud was content. Work meant it kept him busy and occupied; he hated being idle and the money was good. It also meant he had more excuses to stay away from Midgar Edge.

Since Reunion, Edge was stable once more, focused on rebuilding what was broken and mending was was damaged; buildings, machines and people alike. Free from Geostigma, people had begun looking forward to life again and what the future would hold for them.

There was hope, and light and laughter. There were churches and wedding bells all around. Schools reopened, shops set up around every corner.

It was by watching these changes that Cloud knew: there was no room for him here. There was no room for a man who thrived in the darkest times.

The world didn't need a hero. The streets didn't need a swordsman. Between the hustle and bustle of the city-dwellers there was not place for a big sword wielding man. All they wanted was someone to deliver their goods from one place to another. Strife Delivery Service was the only way he could remain useful to the world they had tried so hard to protect.

Being in Edge was a constant reminder of this fact. So he escaped it and stayed far away from the place if he could. It was easy enough; with the amount of job requests coming in he could conveniently choose everywhere else but the city.

Not that he absolutely needed the world in utter chaos, threat of destruction or total annihilation of the entire planet to survive and feel like he belonged.

So he tried to be a "no-body". He tried being just another man in a city of thousands, dutifully carrying out a routine job by day, and falling asleep in the same bed every night.

He expanded his business to farther corners of the continents, and occasionally dropped by old friends to say hello when time allowed. He would stay home on some days, helping Tifa prepare the bar or watching over the children's homework while they whinged and groaned about it the whole time through. He would praise them with a rare, small smile when they did finish, and watch them settle into their beds before retreating to his own across the hall.

Because, well, that's what normal people do, right?

And he was doing quite well, or so he thought, until Barret had to ruin everything for him.

"Are ya really gon' make her wait?"

Barret's mug landed with a loud thud on the counter. Pieces of foam flew from the rim of his mug to the table and Cloud watched the bubbles quickly disappear with sudden interest.

"Oi, spikey. Are ya listenin'?"

Barret's heavy gun arm poked Cloud hard in the rib. Wincing a little but still macho enough to maintain a straight face, Cloud whispered quickly.

"What are you even talking about?"

Though he was watching the sticky residue the shape of Barret's foam, out of the corner of his eyes, Cloud saw Tifa drift from the far table towards the entrance and let out a small sigh of relief.

"We talked about this. Nothings gonna happen. Ever."

"Ya said ya wanted a normal life! This is a normal life, Spike."

"Well normal means I can do whatever the hell I want and _this_ isn't one of 'em." Cloud whispered furiously, accentuating his words by tapping his index finger viciously on the counter.

Barret blew a wet raspberry of disbelief.

"Cloud, yer real naïve about the real world. To a man, the normal life means to let the Boss tell ya what to do and when to do 'em."

This time Cloud huffed in disbelief and turned away from his friend. But Barret did not give up so easily.

Spinning Cloud's stool with his free hand, Barret spoke carefully.

"My girl is my boss, Cloud. I know what I'm talkin' about." Was it sadness in Barret's voice or was Cloud getting drunk? Not that he was capable of becoming intoxicated.

Ruffling his hair out of his eyes out of old habit, Cloud snuck a glance over at Tifa's slender form collecting empty mugs. Breathing in quickly, he steeled his determination and focused on Barrett once more.

"Whatever. I'm not doing anything."

Cloud expected at this point for Barrett to get up from his seat and angrily stomp his feet and wave his gun-arm in Clouds face like he used to in the olden days. He was almost ready to swing his own arm to knock away the pesky gun arm from his face when he realized, Barrett had not moved.

Rather than bursting into rage that Cloud _knew_ still existed deep inside Barrett (as much as he got told off by his "boss" for being loud, that fiery spirit never did die), Barret took a deep chug from his mug once more and wiped his mouth on his forearm.

His thick lips were drawn into a sly grin.

Cloud wanted to punch that grin clean off his face. Instead he let his palm hit his own forehead instead.

* * *

Back at the canyon, Cloud lifted a heavy arm and rested it over his eyes.

Even in the darkness that his arm provided, Cloud could still see as clear as day that grin on Barret's face.

 _He really should have punched it while he had the chance…_

The arm over his eyes fell to his side dramatically as if despairing the lost opportunity to get a clear shot at his old friend. But as he did so, the small pebbles strewn all over the sandy floor stung his knuckles in such a way that it overlapped with his memory of Marlene's disapproving pinch.

Cloud looked carelessly at his collapsed hand on the floor and let out a sigh. If he had picked up Cid's habit of smoking, he would be aching for a cigarette now.

So was that how life was supposed to go?

Find a special someone who will pinch you back in line?

Perhaps this was Barret's way of life. Was it shared by many other people?

Cloud's mind fished out an old memory of a neighbor back at Edge. Dan, the grocer, had a wife and a child due sometime in Winter. The man seemed happy enough, there were lines of strain on his youngish face whenever money was the subject or when he was tidying up his carrots after the kids had messed up the arrangement.

But between these moments were special ones.

Whenever Cloud drove back from a delivery, he always took the road that would pass him outside Dan's grocers. Before opening or after close, he would see Dan carefully wrap an arm around his wife's widening waist and helping her climb the stairs. He would see Dan pin up small pictures of baby's shoes or clothes. One evening, Cloud saw Dan press an ear to his wife's tummy, listening for the sound of his baby. Cloud had stopped to watch then. He watched as slowly Dan lifted himself, a content smile on his lips as he kissed his wife briefly while rubbing tenderly the spot where his ear had been moments ago.

In none of these memories was Dan the grocer in pinched pain but Cloud knew that he and Barret had chosen a similar way of life. But Dan was just another. He didn't represent everyone.

Barret's life may not be the life Cloud was destined to live.

So what was his?

He was a swordsman ( _a damn good one_ ), and a ex-Shinra soldier. He saved the Planet with his comrades, and he built Seventh Heaven. He now delivered parcels all over the continent, making sure that each year he made a special visit to the forgotten capital in memory of a dear friend.

There were no relationships to speak of, or any person to pinch him…

Barret's grin resurfaced on Cloud's hazy mind, followed by Tifa's slender form leaning over the bar counter with a small smile on her face.

 _BAD THOUGHTS._

Cloud grumbled out loud as if the cliffs facing him were the Barret, and turned away angrily to his side.

 _Sleep it off, sleep it off._


End file.
